


Bound

by NocturnalRemissions



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Captivity, F/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Violence, Punishment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnalRemissions/pseuds/NocturnalRemissions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Contains some non-consensual attempted rape and related violence, which exists in the first chapter only...so far.  This will become NC-17. Most of the characters, outside of that of Guy of Gisborne, are original characters.  I began this story months ago and have been sitting on it.  The story is developing and is actively being written, but as I am a chronic editor, the coming chapters may post weekly hereafter, or longer.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some non-consensual attempted rape and related violence, which exists in the first chapter only...so far. This will become NC-17. Most of the characters, outside of that of Guy of Gisborne, are original characters. I began this story months ago and have been sitting on it. The story is developing and is actively being written, but as I am a chronic editor, the coming chapters may post weekly hereafter, or longer.

 

Chapter 1

**Caught**

I awaken and it is so cold. It emanates from the damp stone walls against my back and through my clothing. Everything had been torn from me, with the exception of the flimsy remnants that barely serve to cover or warm me – my small-clothes. The wall scratches at me, where my skin is bare, at the scrapes from my struggles, and on my hands bound above me, sting and itch. The shackles bite at my wrists, but only if I pull or twist, so I try not to move.  
  
It is so dark. Although the cloth across my eyes has now slipped slightly, it does not matter as there is little light. The room smells of damp, musk and lightly of sawdust. I am thankful that it does not smell of human filth and think it must have been recently cleaned, for the floor, although cold on my legs, is dry stone - not dirt and mud.  
  
I do not know how long I have been here, I only know the why and how. In Nottingham it is a crime to steal food from the Sheriff's stores. There is so much that sits left to rot, uneaten and wasted, and we have been left to starve while food lays within easy reach of all in the township. My mother – my only parent - is dying from hunger. It was not for me that I took the chance, but take it I did for her sake.  
  
The guardsmen had seemed occupied with gambling in the courtyard. Their amusements had been loud in brief, but raucous, bursts, and I had removed my shoes beforehand as precaution to aid my quiet. A sack of grain was open nearest the door to the storeroom, and I made a hasty fill within my skirts.  
  
Grain spilled on the floor and across my feet, as I was caught only moments from taking what little I could within the folds of my apron and top-skirt. Several of the Nights Guardsmen grabbed at my neck, my waist, my thighs, and my breasts. I was bound over my mouth, my eyes, and at my wrists, then pushed and laid across a bench while they ripped at my clothes and pulled at my skin. The gravel, mixed with the grain on the floor, scratched and scrapped my knees as I went down. Moments flashed and I saw white as I was struck in the face and jaw. My head spun. “Down!”, a guardsman said, as he grasped at my hair, securing me clumsily with his hands, as he fumbled with his other on what sounded like the lacings of his trousers. Another guard leaned toward my ear to whisper “Are you wet? Let's see, shall we?” The guard’s hand slipped between my thighs, groping, probing and parting me with his thick fingers. “Best we need to do something about this. Turn her over.”  
  
The thudded sound of heavy boots and the ring of spur sounded across the storage hall. The long gate of a tall man quickly approached, followed by his thick bellow - low and sharp. Hands that were on me were suddenly lifted, along with the solid smack of contact to skin. “Did I say she was yours to have? I said stop her, not fuck her!” The snap of a jaw and low whinge from a pained receiver sent feet scrabbling to flee. “You!”, the tall man commanded, “Pick her up. Give her what's left of her small-clothes.”  
  
The guardsman yanked me up by my hair and seated me on the bench, shoving the torn pieces into my bound hands. I was acutely aware of my nakedness and I clutched the remnants of my clothing to my chest, feeling no less exposed. The tall man approached, hovering close over me. “Get-up.” I shivered, and then stood, sensing by the heat of his closeness that I was still almost a foot shorter than his full height. I could smell the tanning of his leathers, and they creaked as he leaned in closer. “Are you aware,” he said “that your crime is punishable by death?” I shivered. His voice was a low, deep whisper, close to my ear. “What have you to say?”  
  
“My mother is ill and…,” I said, desperately trying not to shake. “And she's very hungry. I am hungry as well, my Lord. We have nothing.”  
  
His gloved hands creaked, as if gripping themselves. “I see. It is still a crime all the same.” The heat of his breath left my ear, breathing in deeply as he returned upright. I heard him turn and walk towards the door. “Take her”, he said, and hands grasped me under my arms as I was brusquely taken, into the dark.

 


	2. Indentured

Chapter 2

**Endentured**

I awoke again to a faint torch light creeping across the walls.  The sound of boot and spur, and that now familiar gate, followed along with other, lighter foot fall. The sound of keys opened a door and hands pulled me from the floor. Brief light blinded me out of darkness as gloved hands attended to unfastening the shackles on my wrists.  
  
The sound of scrapping wood on stone was followed by “Sit!”, and my legs collapsed onto a small stool placed beneath me and I rubbed at my now freed wrists.  
  
There was that smell again.  He leaned closer, and I was overwhelmed by more – a smell of lye soap, and a little something like sour wine.  And the smell of him – of sweat and skin and leather.  But there was something else now, and I turned myself towards it.  There was food in the room.  My head swam and I nearly fainted.  
  
The cloth on my eyes was removed and the food was put in front of me. I saw nothing else as I tore at the tough bread, shoving bits into my sore and bloodied mouth, followed by quick gulps of wine.  And then I saw a sizable chunk of hard cheese, and ate without any attempts to break it or reduce its size, nor did I care about the pain in my jaw.  
  
“If you don't slow down, you will choke.” he said, stating fact.  
  
I chewed what I had with more care and swallowed slowly.  Then I looked at him. The light was stronger, as my eyes adjusted, and I had to crane my neck to see what stood above me.  What I saw made me drop the food that was still in my hands.  His face was hard and strong with clearly a rare softness around his eyes which, for the moment, were a quiet and bright blue - made almost iris-black in the dim light.  An angular, unshaven jaw and long, lean nose accentuated a proud but pained face.  He was so beautiful it hurt, and it made my eyes water to look at him – so much so that I quickly diverted my gaze back to my food.  I had never seen the Sherriff’s infamous henchman, but I had heard him described.  I knew it was him.  
  
The woman who brought the food stepped forward with some water. He grabbed the cup, almost spilling it and handed it to me. “Leave us”, he said to her, and she went, taking the remnants of my meal with her. “Wait”, he then said. “Leave it.  Bring more, along with a wash basin and dressings.”  
  
As the woman left, I looked down at my scraped knees.  They had been bloodied and were more raw-looking than they felt. I became conscious of how I must now look and I tugged at my clothes and at my tangled hair. I looked up and his eyes were following mine – to my injuries and to my self-conscious near-nakedness. For a moment I thought I saw a flush cross his face.  
  
Returning his eyes to mine, he said “I will see about getting you some clothing. In the meantime, we will have a discussion about your crime”, he continued – and my eyes fixed to the scraps on my plate. “The Sheriff is not yet privy to the theft and is currently away on business.  However, it is left to me -” But, he then broke for a moment.  He looked thoughtfully at my feet.  I looked down.  They were bloodied from being dragged. He looked up again at me before he spoke, “It is my duty to punish for such crimes.  I should make an example of you,” he paused, “but as you had actually failed in your theft attempt, there may be other duties at the castle available to you as punishment and as payment for the spoiled grain.”  
  
At this I slowly looked at him. Although I am a Maid, I understood what it meant to be in service at the castle.  Many young women sought service to the Sheriff, in exchange for food for themselves as well as their families.  Four years ago, before my father died, he made much of the fallen girls who offered themselves in this way.  The local families were shamed, but could see no other way to ensure that their daughters were fed and clothed, as well as the family, where food was brought home when allowed. I was 14 at the time, and although I understood, and have since thought this to be a fate worse than death itself.  
  
The Sheriff's henchman smirked, lowering his head - showing the whites of his eyes below the now-darkening blue, “Now girl, I can see in your eyes what you think your duties might be. You should not believe all that you hear.  Besides, what's required of you may not be at all as bad as it might seem.”  
  
I shivered once again from the cold and from the thought.  His eyes traveled across my legs and the length of me, up to my face.  A slow, sly, shadow of a smile crept into his face.  It was a smile I have seen in other men before – one that often gave me confusing feelings. Then there was the return of that slight blush in his cheek.  Then he turned his face, pained slightly, as he heard the servant returning down the hall.  
  
The woman re-entered the cell, placing the a tray with a small basin, bandages, food and water, along with a satchel of clothing, and set it next to us on the floor where she crouched to begin her ministrations to my wounds.  
  
"We will talk more. I will leave you to think about what I have said."  Then he paused, thoughtfully.  He lifted his chin slightly and said, "But know this - if you agree to the terms of repayment, you will be allowed to visit, as well as bring food and care to your mother.”  
  
I winced at the sting of the nettle salve that the woman now applied to my knees. The salve was soothing, but the woman was trying to be quick – clearly pained at the discussion and eager to be done.  
  
Although I knew the answer to the question as soon as it came out of my mouth, I dared to say, “How long?”  The tall henchman turned to me with a scowl.  “What?”  
  
“How...” I swallowed low and paused.  “How long will I be in service to the castle, my Lord?” I said, using all the strength I had to look into those eyes. His nostrils flared just a fraction before a deep intake of breath, and speaking pointedly with his gloved hand, he slowly said “For as long as I wish it!”  
  
And with that, Sir Guy of Gisborne left the cell.  
  
After the woman finished my dressings, she looked at me for some time soundlessly.  Then, pushing the food towards me, she left without a word.  The torch was left burning in the sconce, allowing me some light. The tray of food, water and remaining wine remained, but all I now wished was the wine.  My head swam and the aches increased as my body began to register the attempt at my rape. I drank the wine, dressed myself, and crouched into the corner – thankful for the warmth from the spirit.  
  
My thoughts raced with my options before me. My death would mean my mother would be left without proper food, care, and likely left to die.  Giving my life to the castle – to an unknown fate – would save her life, as well as mine. I thought of the servant woman's face and her eyes that left behind traces of pain and dreadful concern. I thought of Sir Guy, and his confusing and wicked smile – a smile that both warmed and frightened me. I thought of the guardsmen and of the Sheriff.  I thought that if the guardsmen were any indication, Sheriff Vasey himself might truly be the actual fate worse than death.  Again, I thought of the men, and of being bound, beaten, torn and nearly ruined.  
  
Ruined.  
  
The tears came slowly, stinging the scratches on my face. Then they increased in violence, until my body was wracked with them, exhausting me into sleep.

 


	3. Enraptured

Chapter 3

**Enraptured**

He watched her for a while, as she moved through the shadows. He could see the fear in her face as she hugged close to the walls in her attempts to keep the darkness close. Her dark eyes, glazed and reflective in the firelight, fixed on the guards as she quietly made her way passed them. Their din would have made many transgressions alike possible, Guy knew, and he would certainly have to tend to that later.

For now, he just watched her, while he quietly munched on an apple. The glow from the firelick in the center pit of the courtyard danced along her slight and fragile looking frame, against the angular yet soft features in her face, while a breeze flicked at her long red hair. She moved slowly through brief patches of light, which further revealed her loveliness. As he further watched her scale the darkness, he ached very low at the thought of touching her. Touching her. There was violence in the thought of taking her and he shivered, as he knew the unique hunger in his sexual nature might almost snap that frail looking frame. He had hurt a women before in his passions and suddenly he was mortified at such a thought.

He regarded the apple. He wondered thoughtfully that such a gift of it might bring her to tears. Its sweet crispness would fill her belly. that such a gift of it might bring her to tears. Its sweet crispness would fill her belly. He could imagine gratitude. He could imagine many things from such gratitude. His eyes glazed and he flushed with his thoughts, the heat traveling from his face and neck quickly moved down to his groin, tugging at his center. He was almost crippled with it - something that had never happened to him before. He sniffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand and paused with it to think on the event he knew must be about to take place.

He watched her still, as she moved closer to the castle stores. He knew what must be done. She was closer to the archway that led to the passages through to the grain stores, and he knew he must act as soon as she might soon slip in and out of sight. He quickly moved to the another window from his current observation higher in the castle, to one that was a better vantage point and nearer to the guards. As soon as he was there, with an almost liquid stealth she smoothly slipped in, with the guards still oblivious in their revel.

He spotted the closest guard and hurled the remains of the fruit in his hand, where it smacked the man across his ear. With a yelp, the guard turned towards the direction of the offense, quieting himself as his face slunk from anger to that of respect and fear once he spotted the source.

Guy quickly gestured silence with his gloved finger and commanded wordlessly for the guardsman to come quickly to receive his orders.

 


	4. Retribution

 

Chapter 4

**Retribution**

He leaned again the door to listen.  Was she still crying?  Perhaps she was asleep.  He thought then that he might hear her breathe.  Or if asleep, perhaps hear her cry out.  He stayed there for a while at the door, still and unmoving.  He remembered the smell of her as he leaned in to speak, just so she would know his closeness.  Purposeful, he almost buried his nose into her hair, wishing to be as nearest to her ear as possible.  Her hair smelled of tall grasses and the heather that grew in the outlying meadows.  She had shivered, but he was still not sure if it was his own affect on her, or from the chill and fear from being stripped and nearly raped.

Sir Guy had taken great pleasure in punishing the guard how touched her.  He thought of nothing else after leaving her cell, and was surprised to see the dog still at the castle.  If the man had been smart he might have left, traveling on what little he might have earned in his time.  But the obedience of his men is assured by threat of the stripping of income, family attachments, or one's fingernails.  Thankfully, the guard was indeed an obedient dog.  While Sir Guy had him bound and placed naked in the lowest cell in complete darkness, he also thought carefully on what might be an appropriate punishment for both the disobedience and the injury to his newest possession. Guy did not want to wear himself out either, so he kept it simple.  The work took about an hour.  If the guard recovers, he will not sit well for a long while.  Guy left more difficult matters to others.  Things that were not his taste.  But he is certain that neither will his orders ever be ignored again, nor will the man ever take a woman by force, if at all again into his bed.

Guy readied himself at the door.  He would speak first before opening it, with the sincere hope that once he opened the door he might find her at least free of tears.  He took a breath.


	5. Compromise

Chapter 5

**Compromise**

“What have you decided?”  His voice sounded, deep and resonating through the door and rang down the stone passageways, startling me from sleep. “We can't have you rotting down here for much longer.  It'll spoil your lovely skin.” I could almost hear his smirk behind the closed door.

“My Lord, if I may, I would like to see my mother.  I want to see her one last time, before I make my decision.”

The key penetrated the lock and, unbolting it, Sir Guy shoved open the door with force.  Carrying a fresh torch, he stepped into the dark of the cell.  He cocked his head to look at me.  When I looked up at him, the color left his face.  He almost started toward me, but then seemed to stop himself.

“We can't have you spoiling yourself with tears."  He said.  "You must eat.” Then as he turned, he said “I will have the guards take you into town.”

“No! Please!”  The thought of being alone with the guardsmen began to make my stomach roil. Panicked, almost stood knowing I really could not.  He turned to me, glaring and raising his chin.

“Please, my Lord...is there a way to - ?” I broke off.  Then with as strong and hopeful a plea as I could make, I continued. “If there is any chance - any way - that you might...I would ask of you my Lord if you would please take me there... _yourself_?”

His eyebrow raised at this, as if the question was more audacious than had ever been dared before.  He stared at me for a brief while, then he looked down briefly, as if to examine his boots.  Then without raising his head he looked at me, his darkened eyes becoming blue-amber in the firelight, and said, “Very well. I will take you to see your mother.  However the guards will still attend us.”

 “Thank you, my Lord.”  The compromise was at least that.  I felt somewhat safer in the thought, although, in truth, I should not have. Then he came closer to me, towering but leaning in, and almost as if to speak in secret.  I craned my neck up to look into his face.

"Believe me when I tell you this" he said, his voice smooth and low, "In no way will one of my guards ever even think of touching you in the way _ever_ again.  I am certain of this."  And with that, that sly smirk returned to his features.  There was achievement in his eyes that was beyond any mere assurance and they took on a glassy shine in the torchlight.  It was frightening, but assuring it was as well.

He stood at his full height again and looked down at me. “So eat now. And quickly. In a little while we will go.  I'll have done with such childishness.” Then he turned and closed the door.

I moved to drink water and to chew some of the bread and cheese.  I tried to go slower, but it wasn't before long that I found myself lifting myself to hurtle into a corner of the cell and retch until my stomach was completely empty.

Sir Guy slammed open the door. When I turned to look at him, wiping my mouth, I stood and walked a few paces before I lost all consciousness.

 


End file.
